


The Romance We Wrote

by CelestialVoid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Artist Stiles Stilinski, Boys Kissing, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Illustrator Stiles Stilinski, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pining Derek, Pining Derek Hale, Pining Stiles, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Slow Build, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Slow Burn, Writer Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 11:14:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20891186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialVoid/pseuds/CelestialVoid
Summary: Stiles and Derek work for the same publishing company—Derek as an author of children’s books and Stiles a contract illustrator. They’re paired up to work on a lot of projects together but have never met. When one of their works becomes a bestseller, they finally get the chance to meet.





	The Romance We Wrote

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loveyProphet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveyProphet/gifts).

His desk was covered in stacks of paper and folders, drafted stories held together by the colourful paperclips his sister had bought him as a joke, various notebooks and scraps of paper with reminders or ideas written on them, published copies of his books, colourful sticky notes, his laptop, and a coffee mug that had left a ring scorched into the wooden table top over time.

Derek sorted through the files, pulling out the pale blue folder of his latest project.

It was another collaboration with Stiles Stilinski, a contact illustrator. He and Derek had worked together on several projects now and Derek loved working with him. They had never actually met in person, but they had spent months sending emails back and forth and every draft or manuscript that they passed back and forth had fun little notes written in the margins.

Derek had memorised Stiles’ handwriting at this point, and every time he saw one of his illustrations he was mesmerised. It didn’t matter what it was, he knew the art style—slightly sketchy linework and soft colouring, not bold colour and blocked out shapes.

Stiles had a way of making his art look enchanting and inviting. And every illustration made Derek’s stories come to life.

Derek’s laptop chimed, a notification lighting up the screen of his phone beside him. He picked up his phone, reading his sister’s name before setting the phone aside again and turning back to his work.

He rifled through the collected pages of the drafted story and the sketches Stiles had made up for him—character designs and quickly drawn backgrounds that he wanted Derek’s feedback on. The manuscript pages were filled with scrawls of colourful pen.

Stiles had explained it once: red was unsolved—things that needed clarity, yellow was ‘to be confirmed’—typos and corrections or suggestions, green was solved, and blue was ‘just pretty’. 

Most of the pages were full of blue—messages to Derek or little doodles in the corner of the page that always made him smile.

There was a quiet knock at the door.

“Come in,” he said, glancing up from his work to see Lydia step into his office, her long strawberry-blonde hair pulled back from her face.

“Laura just called,” she told him. “She says to tell you to look at your emails.”

“I will,” Derek replied.

“Now,” Lydia said with finality.

Derek let out a measured breath and pulled his laptop forward, opening up his emails to find several unread messages. He found the email from Laura and opened it.

**Congratulations—your story, ‘What’s Mine is Yours’, is on the bestsellers list for the second month running.**

**Because of this, the company has set up a deal with a few local bookstores and libraries for you and Stiles to do meet-and-greets, reading sessions, and book signings—_this is not optional, Derek._**

**I’ve attached a schedule of the dates and places as well as airline tickets for the few signings that are out-of-state. **

**Dress code is casual and don’t scare the little kids.**

**Love,**

**Laura.**

Derek typed out a quick reply to let his sister know he’d read the email and downloaded the attachments before turning back to his work.

He picked up the piece of paper and froze, a wave of realisation washing over him.

He was finally going to meet Stiles.

Stiles span around on his chair, turning from his desk to the lightbox he had set up nearby, he grabbed a pencil and began to sketch out an illustration.

His desk was a mess of paper—sketches, pieces of paper, drafted stories he had to draw illustrations for. Scattered among the mess were coloured pens, pencils and markers, and a tablet that was connected to his computer.

He had stacks of sketchbooks full of illustrations, doodles and drafts—he liked to sketch things out on paper before transferring them to digital copies and refining the illustrations before putting them into the manuscript drafts or emailing them to Derek.

The rest of his office was full of cardboard boxes—packed full of sketchbooks, reference books, and folders of old projects. Their office was being renovated, which meant they had to move all their filing cabinets and storage boxes.

Pages of drafted stories and notes lay around him or pinned up on the wall, covered in Derek’s neat cursive writing—the writing that always gave him butterflies in his stomach and made him smile whenever he saw it.

His computer screen lit up, catching his attention. An email notification showed up in the bottom corner of his screen. He clicked on it and opened the email.

**Hi Stiles,**

**Congratulations—your story, ‘What’s Mine is Yours’, is on the bestsellers list for the second month running.**

**Because of this, the company has set up a deal with a few local bookstores and libraries for you and Derek to do meet-and-greets, reading sessions, and book signings. **

**I’ve attached a schedule of the dates and places as well as airline tickets for the few signings that are out-of-state. **

**Dress code is casual.**

**Best wishes,**

**Laura Hale.**

Stiles smiled slightly, a feeling of triumph settling in his chest.

_What’s Mine is Yours_ was one of the first books he worked on with Derek—the story about two dragons – Plush and Snug – and their hoards, one of pillows and the other of blankets, learning to share.

It was also one of his favourite stories.

Derek had a way with words, a way of making everything seem so magical. He could take a story—a world of magic and adventure—and refine it into a couple-hundred words for children to read.

He opened the attachments, printing them and pinning them to his wall before pulling out his planner and writing down the dates and times—flagging them with colourful tabs.

He sent back a reply and sat back in his chair.

His delight gave way to panic as reality set in and he realised he was finally going to meet Derek.

The first meet-and-greet came around faster than Derek thought.

He’d spent the morning pacing back and forth in his apartment, fussing with his clothes and changing several times. He eventually settled on a faded grey Henley and dark jeans.

The event was at a local library—not too far from his apartment—so he decided to walk there to try and calm his nerves.

When he arrived, he stepped over to the front desk. He offered the young librarian a friendly smile when she looked up at him and opened his mouth to introduce himself when a familiar voice rang out across the library.

“There you are.”

Derek looked at the librarian apologetically before turning to look at his sister. “Hi, Laura. Nice to see you too.”

“Come on, we’re setting you up in the children’s corner,” Laura said, making her way through the rows of bookshelves and over to the corner of the library where the children’s section was.

There were two rows of low shelves with children’s book lined up on them and another shelf running along the wall. The space was open—a few plush benches were pushed up against the walls for the adults or the children to sit on while they read.

The clear floorspace by the window had been filled with a bunch of blankets, pillows and cushions for the children to sit on. There were beanbags and stools for the parents and two stools in the corner for Stiles and Derek.

They’d set it up with a table for when they signed the books, copies of the book stacked up on the table with a few on display while boxes of stock were hidden beneath the table.

A young man stood by the window, dressed in a blue-and-grey hooded sweatshirt and jeans. His dark brown eye caught the golden sunlight that streamed through the wall of windows, swirling like pools of golden liquor. His chestnut-brown hair was a tousled mess and he was covered in moles that charted constellations across his skin, a sweet smile lighting up his face as he met Derek’s gaze.

Stiles.

Derek was starstruck as he stared at the young man. He was more beautiful than Derek could have ever imagined.

“Hi,” Stiles said, smiling sweetly at Derek.

“Hi,” Derek replied, breathless. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

A soft, rosy-pink blush coloured Stiles’ cheeks. “You too.”

“The reading circle starts in about half an hour,” Laura told them. “Lydia’s going to be here in a minute to help with book sales. You just have to read the story, say hi to the kids, and sign the books. I’ve got to run, but I’ll be back in an hour or two. If you’re good, I’ll even bring you coffee.”

She took a step to leave before turning back.

“And, Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t scare the little kids.”

Derek screwed up his face at her.

Laura laughed before turning to walk away.

The reading went well.

Stiles sat nearby as Derek read the story, listening to his deep, soothing voice.

He watched as the crowd of children—who were sitting on the cushions or with blankets draped around the shoulders—watched on, mesmerised.

Once they were done, they made their way over to the table where Lydia was selling copies of the book.

There was two seats behind the table, but Derek took one glance at a little girl who was too small to look over the table and shook his head. He sat down on the floor in front of the table, greeting the kids, signing the books, getting hugs and taking photos.

Stiles joined him, sitting down beside him.

The kids lined up, looking shy or smiling broadly as they handed over their copies of the book to be signed.

Stiles and Derek opened each of the books to the first page and wrote messages inside for the children before signing them. Stiles left the occasional doodle at the bottom of a page, watching as the kids’ faces lit up with joy when they saw them.

After a while, things started to quiet down. A lot of the children had left, but one boy—who looked to be barely five years old—lingered in the corner of the room with his big sister, clutching a toy to his chest.

His sister talked quietly to him before taking his hand and walking him over to Stiles and Derek.

“Hi there,” Derek said softly. “What’s your name?”

“Corey,” the boy muttered quietly.

“Hi, Corey. I’m Derek.”

The boy bowed his head bashfully, tightening his hold around his toy.

“What have you got there?” Derek asked.

“Plush,” Corey answered, loosening his hold slightly to show Stiles and Derek his toy dragon—the same dragon from their book, the one who hoarded pillows.

“Wow,” Derek whispered, a bright smile lighting up his face.

Stiles watched in amazement as the quiet boy slowly opened up to the man.

“It’s my favourite book,” Corey said quietly. “My brother reads it to me before bed every night. And for my birthday, my sister made me Plush.”

Derek looked up at Corey’s sister.

“You made him?” he asked.

The girl nodded.

He watched as Derek’s pale aventurine eyes glimmered in the daylight, full of surprise and amazement.

“That’s incredible,” Derek said.

A sad look settled on Corey’s face as he bowed his head.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked, craning his neck to look the boy in the eye.

“I left my book at home,” Corey admitted.

Derek looked around—there was no one else there, only them.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Derek whispered as he reached under the table and pulled a copy of the book out from one of the boxes.

“We don’t have any money on us,” Corey’s sister object.

“This one’s for free, but you can’t tell anyone that,” Derek said, winking at the boy. He opened the book to the first page and signed it before offering it to Stiles.

Stiles smiled as he took it from Derek, looking down at the familiar cursive of Derek’s writing as he read over the message Derek had written.

Down the bottom of the page, he wrote his own message and drew a quick sketch of Plush before offering the book to Corey.

The boy’s eye flew open wide.

“Really?” he whispered.

A soft smile turned up the corners of Derek’s lips. “Really.”

“Thank you so much,” Corey said, trying to juggle Plush and the book. He paused for a moment. “Can I… Can I have a hug?”

“Of course,” Derek said.

Corey passed the book to his sister before rushing into Derek’s arms and hugging him tight. He muttered quietly as tears welled in his eyes. He pulled back from Derek and hugged Stiles, his tears falling down his pale cheeks.

“Come on, Corey,” his sister said softly. “We’ve got to get going.”

Corey pulled back, steadying himself on his feet before taking his sister’s hand.

She began to lead him away but he stopped, turning back.

“Thank you,” he said one last time.

“You’re very welcome,” Stiles and Derek said in unison.

Stiles waited until Corey and his sister were gone before turning to Derek. “Isn’t your sister going to notice there’s a lack of profit?”

“What lack of profit?” Derek asked, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and handing the money over to Lydia.

She put the cash in the small box they were using as a till, a sweet smile turning up the corners of her lips as she looked at Stiles and Derek.

Stiles felt a rush of warmth settle in his chest, a soft smile playing across his lips. If he wasn’t in love with Derek before, he sure was now.

He’d fallen—hard—and there was no going back.

Stiles sat on the hotel bed, resting his sketchbook against his knees as he leant back against the headboard. He had a pencil in his hand, the tip scratching at the paper.

They were days into the book tour and had flown across the country to continue the readings. They had been put up in a hotel room with double beds.

It was a large room with light grey walls. A table and two chairs sat in the far corner of the room by the large glass door that led out onto a small balcony and there was a small bathroom by the door. The beds had small tables beside them and a plush grey headboard that ran the length of the wall the beds were pushed against. Behind the plush headboard was a small shelf with a strip of lighting that lit the room.

Across from the beds was a large television, the screen lit up with light and colour. The volume was turned down and neither of them were watching—it was just background noise to break the silence between them.

Derek sat on the other bed, reading over a manuscript and making small notations and edits. Usually other sounds in the room would drive him mad, but there was something about Stiles’ presence—something about the rhythmic scratching of the pencil against his sketchpad—that seemed to calm him.

Eventually his curiosity won him over.

Derek set down his pen, looking over at Stiles.

“Do you draw every night?” he asked.

Stiles looked up, slightly alarmed. “If I’m annoying you, I can stop.”

“No, you’re not annoying me,” Derek said softly. “Quite the opposite actually.”

Stiles looked down at his sketchbook. “Kind of. I try to draw every day. A lot of the time I don’t, but I figured we’ve got a lot of downtime right now so I should probably get some practice in.”

“What are you drawing?”

Stiles’ face flushed bright red.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Derek said reassuringly. “I was just curious.”

“It’s a little embarrassing,” Stiles admitted.

“I’m not one to judge.”

“It’s you,” Stiles admitted.

“Me?”

“I need more practice drawing people and you have a really nice face—and I can’t believe I just said that out loud,” Stiles rambled.

Derek let out a low chuckle.

“Can I see it?” he asked.

Stiles let out a measured breath and turned his sketchbook around to show Derek.

Derek’s face fell, his amused expression giving way to shock and awe as he looked at the sketched portrait.

It was like looking in a mirror—although slightly distorted by Stiles’ sketchy art style, the art style that Derek loved. It was a perfect likeness—thick dark hair, a soft beard that cast a shadow across his jaw, and wide-set eyes were pale—shaded a little with his green pencil and so lifelike. It was as if they caught the light, the shade of his eyes shifting from hazel to green – clear, bright and focused. The hint of a smile turned up the corners of his mouth, softening his stern featured.

“That’s amazing,” Derek muttered, shocked.

A rosy-pink blush coloured Stiles’ cheeks as he turned the sketchbook back around, looking down at the drawing.

He paused for a moment, then with one quick movement, he tore the page out of the book.

“What are you doing?” Derek asked, alarmed.

Stiles quickly signed the bottom of the page before holding it out for Derek to take. “Here.”

Derek blinked in surprise, taking the page and looking down at the sketch. He felt a strange warmth settle in his chest, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

He looked up at Stiles.

“Really?” he asked.

“Really,” Stiles said.

“Thank you.”

Derek looked down at it one more time before carefully sliding the drawing into a folder where it wouldn’t get damaged.

“You seem distracted today,” Stiles said as the two of them returned to their hotel room. “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s nothing,” Derek said quietly.

Two weeks of meet-and-greets and book signings passed faster than Derek would have liked.

Tomorrow was their last reading. After that they’d fly back home and return to their jobs, only ever talking through emails or the notes in the margins of their drafts.

The thought made Derek’s chest ache.

He’d gotten so used to being with Stiles the past two weeks that he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to not see his face—he didn’t want to imagine it.

“It’s clearly something,” Stiles argued, sitting down on the edge of his bed. “You said you didn’t judge me, and I’m not going to judge you. So if you want someone to talk to, I’m all ears.”

"When you're in the room, I find it so hard to focus on anything else," Derek blurted out.

Stiles was taken aback. His lips quivered as they moved around unspoken words. After a moment, he sheepishly said. "I’m sorry. I don't mean to be a bother."

"No, I didn't mean it like that." Derek paused for a moment, letting out a measured breath before saying, "I like you."

Stiles blinked in surprise.

"I know it sounds stupid since. I mean, we never even met before this book tour, but it..." His voice faltered and his words trailed off, shaky as he lost confidence. He dropped his gaze, looking down at his feet. "Never mind. Just forget I ever said anything."

"But it feels like we've known each other forever," Stiles finished.

Derek looked up, meeting Stiles’ dark eyes.

“I feel the same way,” Stiles continued, his voice quiet, shy. He fell silent for a second, swallowing hard as he looked from Derek to his hands in his lap. “I like you too… I _really_ like you—and I… I’d never be able to live with myself if I didn’t tell you how I feel. But if you want to just go back home tomorrow and just go back to work and pretend like this never happened, then I can do that… I can try…”

“And what if I don’t want to?” Derek asked.

Stiles looked up at him. His shock gave way to a soft smile.

Derek took a step forward, stepping over to Stiles’ side. He gently cupped Stiles’ face in one hand, his tender touch sending shivers down Stiles’ spine. He leant forward, closing the space between them and bringing their mouths together.

Stiles let his breath fall from his lungs. His eyes fluttered shut as he leant into the kiss.

Derek’s lips were soft and warm, the kiss tender, slow and sweet.

Derek drew back, licking his lips as he savoured the kiss. He grinned at Stiles’ euphoric expression.

Stiles tilted his chin upwards, chasing his Derek’s lips. He felt Derek chuckle against his mouth as he brought them back together again. He looped his arms around Derek’s neck as he brought his lips back to Derek’s.

He fell back against the mattress, pulling Derek down on top of him.

Derek smiled against his lips, his body pressed against Stiles’ as they lay on the bed. He kissed him lightly—lovingly—slowly drawing back and resting his forehead against Stiles’.

A soft smile played across his lips.

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” Stiles started slowly, slightly out of breath. “Do you want to go out for coffee sometime?”

Derek burst out in laughter, his eyes sparkling as he met Stiles’ gaze.

“I’d love to,” Derek whispered, leaning forward to kiss Stiles again.

**Author's Note:**

> celestialvoid-fanfiction.tumblr.com


End file.
